


Chili, Cornbread and Chateaubriand

by mizface



Category: Scarecrow and Mrs. King
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizface/pseuds/mizface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing looked out of place.  Well, not to Francine, but there were some items in her apartment that would surprise people if they saw them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chili, Cornbread and Chateaubriand

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Rainbow Challenge on a yahoogroup, and inspired by a long-ago fic I wrote for an Alphabet Challenge (but the story stands alone). I really like Leatherneck (the Agency Quartermaster) and wished we'd seen more of him. My items were: the color yellow, a teapot, and a box of crayons. It was very fun writing in this fandom again, especially since I always wanted to write more of this pairing!

Francine checked the pot simmering on the stove, stirring it for a minute as she breathed in the spicy aroma. She was putting the ladle back on the spoonrest when she heard a familiar pattern knocked out, followed by her front door opening and closing. She shook her head with a smile.

“You don’t have to do that every time you come in,” she called out. “You do have a key now, you know.”

“Yes, but you’re an agent, and a crack shot besides,” Leatherneck countered as he entered the kitchen, grocery bags in hand. “Better safe than sorry.”

He put the bags on the table and gave her a quick hello kiss. “Think I found everything you had on the list, plus a few extras,” he said, reaching into a bag to pull out a small bouquet of brightly colored flowers. 

“For me?” Francine said, batting her eyes teasingly. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t, darlin’,” Leatherneck replied with a grin. “Thought they’d look good in your mama’s room.”

Francine’s smile softened, becoming more real and full of affection. “She’ll love them. Lots of yellow – her favorite color.” She turned to the cabinet. “Let me get a vase to put them in.”

He handed her the flowers and she took a minute to arrange them just so. “They’re perfect,” she told him.

He smiled at her as he continued putting away his purchases. “Glad you approve,” he said with a nod. “Now why don’t you put them in the guest room, then sit down on the couch and relax. We don’t need to leave for the airport for a couple of hours. Plenty of time for me to get the cornbread ready to go with this chili, and for you to enjoy a few more minutes of peace and quiet.”

“I’d rather sit in here and watch you cook.”

“That works for me, too. Never gonna say no to your company. But this time,” he went on, pointing at her, “no distracting me. I don’t want to have to scrape a burned layer off to make it edible.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t look so edible yourself,” Francine told him with a wink as she left the room, vase in hand.

She came back in a few minutes later to find the groceries put away, canvas bags neatly folded and back in their place, and Leatherneck busy mixing ingredients.

“You sure there’s nothing I can do to help?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t say no to something cold,” he said, holding up sticky hands. “I forgot to get a glass before I got started.”

“Water, lemonade or beer?”

“Water’s fine,” he replied. “Don’t want to smell like alcohol when I meet your mama.”

He smiled when he said it, but Francine could see the tension in the way he was holding himself. She got him some ice water and placed it on the counter, then reached around to hug him from behind.

Leatherneck leaned back into her, turning his head for a quick kiss. “Careful, don’t want to get yourself dirty.”

“I’ll be fine,” she told him. “What about you?”

He looked down at the apron he’d put on to cover his blue button down and jeans. “Doin’ my best to stay clean, but cornbread can be messy work.”

She gave him another squeeze. “I meant, how are you doing?” she clarified. “I can tell you aren’t relaxed, so you might as well stop pretending.”

Leatherneck sighed, keeping his focus on the pan he was buttering. “You sure your mama’s going to like me?” he finally said, voice quiet and unsure.

Francine shifted to grip his shoulders, gently tugging until he turned to face her. She reached up to cup his cheek, the diamond on her ring finger sparkling in the sunlight streaming through the window over the sink.

“Are you kidding?” she said with an easy smile. “Once she gets over the shock that I’m actually willing to get married, she’s going to want to give you a medal.”

He returned her smile, but she could tell he was still concerned. “You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” she asked, touched.

He shrugged. “It’s just… I do know how different we are, darlin’. It’s part of the attraction for sure, but not everyone’s gonna see how we’re a good fit.”

Francine sighed, but didn’t argue the point. They’d talked about this before, more than once. Sometimes she was the one who worried; other times, like now, it was his turn. All she could do was remind him of what really mattered, so she pulled him in for a careful hug, then shifted back to cup his cheeks with her hands and kiss him, slow and sure.

“Doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks, remember?” she said, looking deep into his eyes.

Instead of answering, Leatherneck leaned in to kiss her again, careful to keep his hands away from her silk shirt. “Your mama isn’t just anyone,” he said, one eyebrow quirked.

“I know that, but you can trust me when I say she’ll be happy for me… for us,” she insisted. “I’ve only known her my whole life, you know. Besides, it isn’t like I’ve kept you a secret.”

“True, but you haven’t told her we’re engaged,” he pointed out.

“Because I wanted to save that news for when I saw her in person,” she reminded him. “After how loudly I swore I’d never get married after Jonathan left me at the altar, she’s going to want proof before she believes me.”

“All right,” he said, holding up his hands. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Good,” she replied with a wicked smile. “Because if I had to find some way to convince you, that cornbread would never get done.”

“And that’s my cue to get back to work,” he said with a grin, giving her one more quick kiss before turning toward the counter. He looked back at her over his shoulder. “How is it you’re not worried about this at all?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m saving it all for when you take me to meet your parents,” she half-joked.

“Fair enough.”

************

Once the cornbread was safely out of the oven and the kitchen was again spotless, Francine did one last quick survey of the room before they left for the airport. Nothing looked out of place. Well, not to her, not any more, but there were some items here that would surprise people if they saw them. 

A jumbo box of crayons sat on a stack of construction paper on top of the refrigerator, stored safely out of reach from last weekend when Leatherneck’s niece and nephew came for a visit. Photos were carefully arranged on the refrigerator door, held in place by a set of magnets Leatherneck had bought her that looked like jewels. There was a picture of her and Leatherneck at a rodeo in jeans and checkered shirts. Another was of the two of them at an Agency function, dressed to the nines. Next to that, one he’d taken of her at the park, her head thrown back as she laughed, hair blowing wildly in the wind. Above it was a photo that made her smile every time she saw it, Leatherneck knee deep in snow, being pelted with snowballs by Amanda’s boys.

A little window garden sat on the sill above the sink, tiny shoots of basil and oregano peeking out, bracketed by pepper plants.

On the back burner of the stove sat Leatherneck’s teapot, battered and obviously well used. Nearby her wooden spoons were in a ceramic container that was obviously handmade, and by an amateur at that. And if you looked in the cupboards or the fridge, the assortment of foodstuffs was equally mish-mash. She was just as likely to have chili and cornbread as she was chateaubriand, or a cold beer instead of a glass of wine. 

“Ready to go?” Leatherneck said as he moved to stand next to her, one hand slung low on her back so his thumb slipped through one of her belt loops. “Don’t want to be late. Wouldn’t do for the future son-in-law to make a bad impression,” he went on in a too-serious-to-be-real tone.

She nudged him with her hip, and he slid his hand over to hers, taking it and twirling her laughing into his arms. When she tried to move away he pulled her closer, then started humming as he two-stepped them toward the door.

It was nothing like she’d ever pictured her life being, Francine thought with a smile as they danced. But that wasn’t a bad thing at all.


End file.
